


5 Times Bobbie Draper Pretended Not to Understand Camina Drummer (and 1 Time She Understood Perfectly)

by EleosEpistrophia



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Background Relationships, Chocolate Box Treat, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, season 6 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleosEpistrophia/pseuds/EleosEpistrophia
Summary: Initially, Bobbie doesn't think she and Drummer have much in common. It turns out she might be wrong.
Relationships: Bobbie Draper/Camina Drummer
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	5 Times Bobbie Draper Pretended Not to Understand Camina Drummer (and 1 Time She Understood Perfectly)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherryontop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryontop/gifts).



> I've placed this in season 6 and gave it a very vague, boring plot. I've only read the first book, so if there's anything in here that is a spoiler for S6/any of the books, it is entirely accidental.

**I**

Bobbie was irritated.

It wasn’t Drummer’s fault. Bobbie supposed she deserved special commendation for defecting from Inaros under the threat of death, and that was heroic, really. But the battle to get through Belter forces and to the ring had been grueling, and a lot of good Earthers and Martians had died making sure the _Rocinante_ made it. It was strange to think of those in the U.N.N as her brothers and sisters, on par with the remaining Martian loyalists, but times were strange and at times incomprehensible. Bobbie’s ‘tribe’, as Peaches called it, was growing larger than she ever could have imagined, and with it inevitably came more heartbreak, more fear, more worry. So when the burning smell of overcooked food came from the kitchen, it was the last straw.

“Fuck,” Bobbie swore, thrusting her hands into the silica gloves before grabbing the red mush from the microwave oven and throwing it onto the counter. Drummer came sauntering in a few moments later, audaciously smiling that cocky grin that was somewhere between girlish and unsettling.

“Smell like it done,” she observed. Bobbie flared.

“Is this yours?” she demanded. Drummer nodded. “Un-fucking-believable. We’re cut off from supply lines, we have an enemy on either side of us, and you’re wasting food because you’re too fucking lazy to pay attention.”

“Calm down, _pomang_ ,” Drummer retorted, amusement flitting across her face. “It is kibble. You can't hurt it. Or, when you do, the taste don’ change.”

“Whatever.” Bobbie ripped the gloves off and slapped them on the counter. “I’m not eating it.”

“I make enough for everyone.” Drummer’s stupid grin wouldn’t leave her face, and Bobbie was sure she was playing up her Belter accent specifically to annoy her. “For one who talk of wastin’ food...”

“I’m sure your stupid kibble can last a day in storage.”

“Wat crawl up your ass and die, eh?” Drummer crossed her arms and looked expectantly at Bobbie, like she really wanted an answer.

“I don’t understand why the Belt is so obsessed with the Ring and the network. You all go on about wanting to make the Belt great and free it from Earth oppression, but the first chance you get you’re all off to another planet. You don’t want to fight for your home, you just want to stick it to the Earthers, and because of that we’re here, stuck between the your Free Navy and some force so great it wiped out the Protomolecule, risking our lives and eating shitty Belter food.” Drummer’s smile dropped and she raised an eyebrow, the cake of black eyeshadow making that eye look comically huge.

“Oh? And the Martians didn’ do the same? Afta one hundred year of failed terraforming project and empty promise, they didn’ wan’ betta for themselves and their children? Maybe we weren’ lookin’ at the same screen, bud I saw lotsa currently in service Martian ship fight along side Inaros.” Bobbie sighed and rolled her eyes. Drummer was missing some important nuance, she was sure of it, but didn’t have the time or the energy to argue. "Beside, the Belt isn't a place, it's a _spirit_. Whereva we go, we are Belters, and whereva we go, we belong."

“Whatever," Bobbie snapped again. The last thing she felt like doing was listening to some sort of Belter empowerment speech. "Your kibble is done.” She passed by Drummer on her way out, making sure to brush against her a little too forcefully to play off as accidental. When Drummer didn’t come after her, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

**II**

Bobbie thought it was weird that, with so many empty sleeping compartments, Drummer, Pa and Josep all slept in the same room. Naomi and Holden were shacked up in the Captain’s quarters and Peaches and Amos were sharing a room as well (though Bobbie wasn’t convinced they were sleeping together, and that made their situation _weird_ ). That left four sleeping compartments, once for each of them, and she didn’t understand why they wouldn’t take the personal space afforded to them.

She mentioned it to Naomi in passing, just as she came off the night shift and the rest of the crew were rousing themselves. Naomi smiled in that kind, sincere manner that lit up her face.

“They a polycule.”

“Oh.” Even though that sort of structure was more common on Earth than on Mars, Bobbie understood the concept. In this context, however, it was just too strange. “That seems like it’s ripe for conflict. There’s a reason the M.C.R.N doesn’t allow soldiers to fraternize.” Naomi shrugged, leaning against the railing as she took a sip of her coffee.

“When I was with Marco we had a similar set-up on our ship. Sometimes I miss it.” 

“Why?” Bobbie frowned. “It just seems like a good excuse for people to get jealous and beat the shit outta each other.” Naomi laughed.

“Sometimes that would happen,” she admitted, glancing to the side. There was a fondness in her smile and absent gaze. “Being with so many people at once was a multiplier. There were more people you have to give to, to love, and it sounds exhausting but it meant that you were receiving that much more as well. Sure, it also multiplied the bad things, but over all it deepened the bonds between us, and when you’re loved by so many people, it makes you feel invincible, like nothing can destroy you. And when you’re out in space, with only each other to rely on, it's a great feeling to have.” Bobbie chewed on that for a moment.

“So if you could turn this ship into a poly… whatever, would you?” Naomi shook her head.

“No. I like what I have with Holden now, and I don’t think he’d go for it. Plus, later I realized that Marco was using all that intense, loving feeling to manipulate us, and it put me off the idea. But when it works, it can be an amazing experience.” There was the sound of footsteps climbing the ladder, and then Holden’s bleary-eyed face came over Naomi’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” he said roughly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Naomi grinned and reached behind her, ruffling his hair. Holden rested his forehead against the top of Naomi's hair for a moment before straightening up and looking at Bobbie. “Anything interesting happen overnight?”

“This may surprise you, but no.” Holden smiled. They had been in the same holding pattern for weeks. They had entered the Ring with their own fleet of over 100 ships, only to discover space had a new master that didn't like visitors. The current theory was that it was being controlled by the Protomolecule Killers (shortened to P.Ks) and their (its?) goal seemed to be preventing contact between any intruding space vessels. One minute they were dog fighting with the Free Navy, and the next they were alone in uncharted space with malfunctioning navigational instruments and no communication relays. It was only a few days later that they came across the broken down _Dewalt_ , salvaged her crew and as many supplies as possible, and they had been stuck together ever since. Occasionally they’d catch a glimpse of another ship on radar, but the P.Ks would separate them if they came too close, transporting one to another area of space. If they were lucky, it would be an area with communication relays which would allow them to send and receive messages and would jump start the navigational instruments again. If not, they just floated along until they ran into the next ship.

“Well, your shift of boredom is done. Go get some sleep, Bobbie.” Holden jerked his head towards the stairs.

“Yes sir.” Bobbie muttered halfheartedly, grabbing her empty energy drink can as she got up and stretched. Despite the limited space, she realized that she had been instantly forgotten as Holden and Naomi looked at each other, sickeningly sweet, over their mugs. Brushing past them (she didn't think they'd noticed) she quickly clamoured down the stairs, saying a quick “Good morning” to Amos in the corridor. When she entered her sleeping compartment, it seemed unusually empty.

**III**

“I want you to _destroy_ that fucking gate,” Avasarala enunciated clearly. Her colour scheme at the time had been an unusually bright pink that she managed to make look regal, like she always did. The video had been sent almost three weeks ago, and Bobbie idly wondered what ostentatious colours she was rocking now. “There’s nothing good on the other side of it, and no amount of Earth, Mars or Belt ingenuity is going to make it hospitable. We’re not ready for this yet. When you finally get out – and you will, because God seems to have a plan for James Holden – close that door. There’s still fighting on the Sol side of the ring, and every once in a while some jackass in a racing ship slips inside. I don’t care who you lock in there, but I hope it’s Marco Inaros and his entire goddamn navy.”

As the message ended Bobbie sighed and leaned over the console, supporting her weight on her palm. She was still technically an advisor to Chrisjen – just in a different capacity than they had planned. Avasarala’s message indicated that her advice had been promptly ignored, and while Bobbie had had the feeling this would be the case before she took the job, the endless rebuffs were beginning to wear on her.

“Bad news?” Drummer had slid into the ops deck without Bobbie noticing. Normally this would embarrass her, that she had been so preoccupied. Now she just sighed.

“Avasarala wants us to destroy the gate,” Bobbie replied, sitting down in front of her terminal and worrying her fingers across her forehead.

“That don’ come as a big surprise to me. Was it to you?” Drummer asked.

“No. But I’m her adviser, and every time I try to act in that role she just ignores what I say. People on Earth are disgruntled with basic income, people on Mars are jobless, and Belters can never get ahead. She sees a current problem and wants it solved, but this war is going to be a blip in the grand scale of human history. The possibility, for everyone, of what lies beyond all these gates… Not to mention the people already there.” Bobbie sighed and shrugged.

“Havin' a boss sucks.” Drummer agreed. “But it’s still Holden’s call. He is independent, he don’ have to do anythin’ he don’ wan’.”

“Yeah,” Bobbie agreed, finally taking the chair in front of the work station. “I just feel like Avasarala keeps setting me up to fail with the position. Why even have me on your payroll if nothing I say matters?” Drummer smiled, a softer more wistful expression than Bobbie had seen on her face before.

“Wen I was Fred Johnson’s second in command, I went through the same thin'. I open my mouth, he ignore me. ‘Why am I even here?’ I ask myself. I come to realize, he already had tot of everythin' I would say. He jus’ need me to argue wit, out loud, to get his tots togeter. It wasn’ _me_ he was rejectin’, it was another part of himself.” Bobbie snorted.

“So I got hired to be a punching bag. Nice.”

“No.” Drummer shook her head. “You got hired because you are strong and bold and she trust you. It don’ feel like like an honour, but it is the best compliment you will ever be paid.” 

“Maybe in the Belt - ” Bobbie started, but Drummer shook her head.

“No. Anywhere,” she insisted. “You get paid to criticize her, to prey on every insecurity that tells her what she is doin’ is wrong. A bad person could destroy her, just agree wit everythin' she say because it is easier, guarantee their position. But you are honest, tell her the truth as you see it. And when you at the top like that? It is worth more than diamonds. Avasarala is not stupid. If you are on her team, there is a damn good reason for it.”

Bobbie pursed her lips as she stared at Chrisjen's profile picture on the comm screen. She missed being a marine, missed blindly taking orders and trusting that everything she did was for the good of Mars. Her concerns had been focused, singular and idealistic, and rushing into the heat of battle had a better emotional payoff than bickering over comms for months on end. If Drummer could find honour in that, she was welcome to take the position. Instead, Bobbie asked, “Did you get any messages?” Drummer shrugged.

“All my family is here. No one to call.” Bobbie didn't know if that made Drummer fortunate or a figure worthy of pity, and Drummer herself didn't give away any clues. "I let you get back to it," Drummer said as she nodded her goodbye, and once again Bobbie was left alone with the comm. She sighed, but then straightened up and put on the same resolute expression she wore into battle before hitting the 'Reply' button.

**IV**

Drummer was surprisingly easy to read, and it shocked Bobbie how long it took her to realize that the Belter was in love with Naomi. Drummer looked at her in sheer adoration, in ways that she never graced Pa and Josep with. There was an extra joy that sparkled in her eyes every time that Naomi was near, some added jubilation that lit up her face. During these moments, Bobbie wondered how Naomi could have resisted her. Drummer was beautiful when she wasn’t scowling, so open and alive, almost touchable. Perhaps even more bewildering was how much she seemed to genuinely like Holden as well. She didn’t shine quiet as brightly, but there was an affection there all the same, and Bobbie didn't quite know what to make of it. There was one day, as the _Rocinante_ continued to wander aimlessly through space, that Bobbie had the chance to grab Drummer and pull her aside in the corridor.

“Look,” she said under her breath, her grip on Drummer's arm steady but firm. “I don’t get why Naomi chose him either. I mean, he’s not such a bad guy, but he's kind of bland, like toast without butter. I like him, but I wouldn't want to eat unbuttered toast every day.” Drummer’s eyes were alarmed for a moment, but then the corners of her mouth started crinkling and the chuckling began.

“What?” Bobbie asked, not sure whether to be irritated or alarmed.

“I like Holden,” Drummer clarified. “Like you say, he not such a bad guy. It not easy in the beginning, for sure, but if you truly love someone, you just wan’ what is best for them. And Naomi is happy. The happiest I see her. And at the end of day, if she like eatin' unbuttered toast, I hope she have all the unbuttered toast she can dream of.” Drummer looked at her with a similar sort of tenderness she gave to Naomi. It was so surprising, so unexpected that Bobbie’s hand flew off her arm as if she had been burned.

“If you’re sure,” Bobbie said slowly. She wasn’t sure if she believed Drummer. The woman was always so intense, so full of passion that it was hard imagining her truly letting Naomi go.

“In some way, rather than feeling like I lost Naomi, I feel like I gain a partner in Holden.” Drummer shrugged and looked down, a soft smile on her lips. “It is a different dynamic – a lot less sex than I like, and I never really care for men. But he has become important to me, just like my crew from the _Dewalt_. And sex is not everythin'.”

"Then why are you still with Pa and Josep?" Bobbie blurted out. "I don't know the... _rules_ of whatever you have, but even I can see that Naomi means more to you than they do. Aren't you supposed to be equal with everyone, including in your affections? Don't they resent that you love her more?" There was a shadow that passed over Drummer's face. Bobbie recognized it well. It was the shadow of a past that you chose to ignore, that ripped a new hole every time it surfaced in your memory. Then Drummer smiled, started laughing again, and Bobbie snapped, "What?"

"You are brave, _pomang_." She laced the epithet with fondness. "Not many people are rude enough to ask such a delicate question. And for your bravery, I will give you the answer: things often don' work out like you plan. Especially matters of the heart." Bobbie felt a sudden self-consciousness come over her, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. The truth was that she hadn't had many romantic dalliances. She had been too busy with her career, too in love with Mars to really have the time or consideration for someone else. She knew that Drummer had been in a similar situation on the other side of the galaxy, and she wondered how the Belter had made room for love. Was it just that she had a larger heart than Bobbie did? Or was it that love had come and swept her up with no concern for wars, politics or her hectic schedule? Perhaps it was just that Drummer had some inherent lovable quality to her that drew people in, multiplied the love around her like Naomi had talked about. Some characteristic that Bobbie lacked. or had buried under her power armour, or had forsaken in her rage against Earth.

"Do you-" Bobbie began just as Amos found them.

"Hey, I need some help fixing the relays," he said unceremoniously.

"We were havin' a private conversation," Drummer admonished him, without any real heat. He guilelessly shrugged.

"It'll keep. What won't keep is this ship. Last thing we need is a cascade failure out here." He looked between the two of them expectantly.

"Fine," Bobbie grumbled, but was only half displeased. She had the feeling she would have said something stupid, anyway.

**V**

Bobbie was on another night shift when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Grateful for the distraction she turned to greet her visitor, and was shocked to see Drummer. She looked diminutive with a blanket wrapped around her thin frame and she seemed to fold in on herself, shoulders hunched and the corners of her lips turned down. Bobbie didn't think that Drummer had been crying - her eye make-up was impeccable, as always - but she had a feeling that whatever the occasion, it was too painful to shed tears over.

“Drummer, what are you doing up here?” Bobbie’s tone was uncharacteristically soft, and Drummer rewarded her with a sad smile.

“Couldn’ sleep,” she replied. There was an awkwardness between them that Bobbie held, looking up at her patiently. “I moved out of the sleeping compartment into my own. There is no room fo’ me between Michio and Josep anymo’.” Bobbie frowned.

“Did they kick you out of the compartment? That’s fucking rude.” Drummer gave a small chuckle.

“No. They did not say anythin', but I know it is my time to go. It is jus' very hard to sleep by myself. No one to hold me, no one to talk to. It is very strange.” Bobbie pursed her lips, and followed the impulse to seek out Drummer's hand under her blanket. She had never been the comforting type, but somehow it seemed right to brush her thumb over Drummer’s knuckles, to softly squeeze the bony hand in her grip.

“I’m sorry,” Bobbie began, even though she wasn’t sure what she was sorry for. “I don’t know what it’s like to-”

“I think everyone know what it like to be lonely,” Drummer interrupted her, not unkindly, and gave her a watery smile and a small squeeze. “I thought maybe you could use some company as well.”

“Of course.” Bobbie replied. “I don’t _have_ to be in the cockpit. We can go and sit somewhere-”

“No. I like the cockpit. It make me feel like I’m goin’ sumwhere,” Drummer replied. “I don’ mind standin’.”

“O.K.” Drummer released her grip and they stared at the view screen. Since the navigational equipment had very little clue about where they were or where they were going, it just displayed a picture of open space in front of the _Rocinante_. The silence was both charming and awkward for a few moments, until Drummer asked if she wanted to hear a joke about Earth. Bobbie had already heard it, but it came out funnier in the Belter accent, and Bobbie had to choke on her giggles so the sound wouldn't travel. They wound up popping open a few cans of Alex’s energy drinks and toasted him before seeing who could chug them faster. Bobbie won, mostly due to the fact that Drummer wasn’t prepared for the burn of the carbonation. It was impossible to tell time in space, but when the computer’s internal clock read 6:50 Bobbie knew that the artificially created daylight was just minutes away. She had to hurry, because the question would be more comfortably asked under the cover of darkness.

“Drummer?”

“Mmmm?”

“If you want, you can move into my sleeping compartment.” Bobbie felt an unusual nervousness coming over her, and had to bite her tongue to stop it from blabbering on self-consciously. Drummer’s long pause didn’t help matters, and she was on the verge of trying to change the subject when Drummer finally replied.

“I would like that.”

**...+1**

Inaros finally found them. During one of their unrequested jumps they had come across a planet that seemed to support some form of alien plant life, and they had stopped for possible provisions. It was while Amos was ill-advisedly thrusting some neon purple foliage into his mouth that the attack began. Marco and his limited forces came cresting over the ridge, had apparently landed far enough away that the P.Ks hadn’t thought to separate the two ships.

Despite their long period of separation, the twisted lover’s reunion wound up being short. Unfortunately, it wasn’t short enough. Bobbie’s attention had been focused exclusively on Camina. Across the sleeping compartment and under the cover of darkness she had told Bobbie her history with Inaros, and Bobbie had heard the promise of vengeance in her voice. Bobbie’s role in this battle was to make sure that Camina could exact her pound of flesh. So Bobbie ran after her, keeping her flanks clear and trying to watch for sniper fire. She thought that she would feel naked without her armour, but as long as she had Camina in her sights she felt like she could do anything, like she was invincible.

“Bobbie!”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t.

Bobbie was so focused on Camina that it took her too long to realize that someone was screaming at her, and when she turned she realized that she was too slow to get out of the way of the incoming fire. It turned out that, while she was quick, Camina was faster.

Bobbie didn’t know how she traveled so quickly, but before she knew it she was laying on wet alien soil, Camina moaning and clutching her shoulder on top of her.

“Fuck.” It wasn’t a complaint, necessarily. Bobbie just didn’t know what else to say.

In a show of irony, Camina’s suicide dive was what finished off Marco. Distracted by Camina’s show of insanity, it allowed Filip to slip behind him and deliver a quick shot to the back of his head. The fight died as instantaneously as Marco did, and Bobbie held Camina in her arms as all eyes focused on the parricidal son.

“I don’ wanna fight you anymo’,” he shouted across the battlefield to Holden. “No’ here, anyway.” Naomi let out a choked sob, and Bobbie could see her coming into view from behind some plant life.

“That’s good to hear,” Holden replied cautiously. Naomi approached him and he pushed his palm behind his body, cautioning her.

“I canno’ promise peace when we get back to da Sol system. But fo’ now, our quarrel is no' with you.” Filip sheathed his gun, and motioned for the other members of his crew to do so as well. There was a moment of hesitancy, where a few questioning glances were exchanged, but when the first crew member put down his weapon the others followed, in some beautiful cascade failure. Camina was breathing heavily in Bobbie’s arms, pressing her hand to a wound that kept bleeding.

“Maybe we could work together to figure out how to get out of here. We wouldn’t owe each other anything after that,” Holden offered. Bobbie let out a sigh of disgust.

“Guys, this is touching as fuck, but we need to get Drummer to the Med Bay,”

“You’re an idiot.” Bobbie hissed, checking Camina's vitals on the medicuff. She would be fine – the shot had hit a major blood vessel and done some serious damage to the skin, muscle and bone, so it would be a while before she had full use of her right arm again. But after hearing about Camina’s spinal injury, Bobbie was sure this barely registered for her. The fact that Camina kept laughing was a clue as well.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Bobbie demanded, and just to be spiteful she increased the amount of ErythroGen Camina was getting. Camina didn’t notice.

“His own son shot ‘im,” she giggled. “If that ain’ a ‘fuck you’, nothin' would be.”

“You were supposed to be the one who did it.” Bobbie muttered.

“No, it is better this way. Better then I could of planned. If we make it out, word will spread that Marco was assassinated by his own flesh and blood. Whether the Belters think Marco was a bad man who deserve it, or that Filip is a bad son, the Free Navy is over.”

“You shouldn’t have taken that shot for me,” Bobbie argued, although it was increasingly difficult to stay angry at a woman who was so damned happy after being shot.

“You are tall. If it didn’ get my shoulder, it would have got your heart. Much better this way.”

“I don’t think so,” Bobbie grunted without any real passion. Camina gave her a smile, that genuine, heart-stopping smile that she had been the recipient of an awful lot lately.

“When you find a kindred spirit, it is more precious than water. You mus’ protect it at all cost.” Camina’s smile changed into something low and sultry, and when she raised her right arm Bobbie felt her knees wobble. She pinched the sides of the jacket zipper and drew Bobbie down until their mouths met. Camina’s lips were chapped and plump and electric, and Bobbie wished she was better at these sorts of things, wished that she had spent a little less time learning tactical strategies and a little more time learning how to love.

But perhaps Camina was right. Perhaps it was better this way.


End file.
